按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
f in the keen air of the North Woods。
He crept from the warm blankets； and from under the straw mattress in which one of the miners had hidden the pouch of nuggetshe took his newly pressed trousers。 Upon a low bench across the room was a battered tin washbasin； a bucket of water brought by the little girl from the spring； and a bar of yellow soap。 He made a quick toilet； and at seven…thirty； a good hour before the lot would wake up； he was dressed and at the door。
It might be chancy； opening that door； so he peered through a narrow crack at first； listening intently。 He could hear nothing and no one was in sight。 He pushed the latchstring through its hole； then opened the door enough to emit his slender shape。
A moment later； ten feet from the closed door； he stood at ease； scanning the log cabin as one who； passing by； had been attracted by its quaint architecture。 Then glancing in both directions to be again sure that he was unobserved； he walked away from his new home。
He did not slink furtively。 He took the middle of the street and there was a bit of swagger to his gait。 He felt rather set up about this adventure。 He reached what might have been called the lot's civic centre and cast a patronizing eye along the ends of the big stages and the long； low dressingroom building across from them。 Before the open door of the warehouse he paused to watch a truck being loaded with handsome furniturea drawing room was evidently to be set on one of the stages。 Rare rugs and beautiful chairs and tables were carefully brought out。 He had rather a superintending air as he watched this process。 He might have been taken for the owner of these costly things； watching to see that no harm befell them。 He strolled on when the truck had received its load。 Such people as he had met were only artisans； carpenters； electricians； property…men。 He faced them all confidently； with glances of slightly amused tolerance。 They were good men in their way but they were not actorsnot artists。
In the neatly landscaped little green place back of the office building a climbing rose grew on a trellis。 He plucked a pink bud； fixed it in his lapel； and strolled down the street past the dressing rooms。 Across from these the doors of the big stages were slid back； and inside he could see that sets were being assembled。 The truckload of furniture came to one of these doors and he again watched it as the stuff was carried inside。
For all these workmen knew； he might presently be earning a princely salary as he acted amid these beautiful objects； perhaps attending a reception in a Fifth Avenue mansion where the father of a beautiful New York society girl would tell him that he must first make good before he could aspire to her hand。 And he would make goodout there in the great open spaces； where the girl would come to him after many adventures and where they would settle to an untroubled future in the West they both loved。
He had slept； he knew wherewith luckhe could sleep again； and he had money in his pocket for several more ample meals。 At this moment he felt equal to anything。 No more than pleasantly aware of his hunger； sharpened by the walk in this keen morning air； he made a nonchalant progress toward the cafeteria。 Motor cars were now streaming through the gate； disgorging other actorstrim young men and beautiful young women who must hurry to the dressing rooms while he could sit at ease in a first…class cafeteria and eat heavily of sustaining foods。 Inside he chose from the restricted menu offered by the place at this early hour and ate in a leisurely； almost condescending manner。 Half…a…dozen other early comers wolfed their food as if they feared to be late for work； but he suffered no such anxiety。 He consumed the last morsel that his tray held； drained his cup of coffee； and jingled the abundant silver coin in his pocket。
True； underneath it； as he plumed himself upon his adventure； was a certain pestering consciousness that all was not so well with him as observers might guess。 But he resolutely put this away each time it threatened to overwhelm him。 He would cross no bridge until he came to it。 He even combated this undercurrent of sanity by wording part of an interview with himself some day to appear in Photo Land：
〃Clifford Armytage smiled that rare smile which his admirers have found so winning on the silver screena smile reminiscent； tender； eloquent of adversities happily surmounted。 'Yes；' he said frankly in the mellow tones that are his； 'I guess there were times when I almost gave up the struggle。 I recall one spell； not so many years ago； when I camped informally on the Holden lot； sleeping where I could find a bed and stinting myself in food to eke out my little savings。 Yet I look back upon that time'he mischievously pulled the ears of the magnificent Great Dane that lolled at his feet'as one of the happiest in my career； because I always knew that my day would come。 I had done only a few little bits； but they had stood out； and the directors had noticed me。 Not once did I permit myself to become discouraged； and so I say to your readers who may feel that they have in them the stuff for truly creative screen art'〃
He said it； dreaming above the barren tray； said it as Harold Parmalee had said it in a late interview extorted from him by Augusta Blivens for the refreshment of his host of admirers who read Photo Land。 He was still saying it as he paid his check at the counter； breaking off only to reflect that fifty…five cents was a good deal to be paying for food so early in the day。 For of course he must eat again before seeking shelter of the humble miner's cabin。
It occurred to him that the blankets might be gone by nightfall。 He hoped they would have trouble with the fight scene。 He hoped there would be those annoying delays that so notoriously added to the cost of producing the screen dramalong waits； when no one seemed to know what was being waited for； and bored actors lounged about in apathy。 He hoped the fight would be a long fight。 You needed blankets even in sunny California。
He went out to pass an enlivening day； fairly free of misgiving。 He found an abundance of entertainment。 On one stage he overlooked for half an hour a fragment of the desert drama which he had assisted the previous day。 A covered incline led duskily down to the deserted tomb in which the young man and the beautiful English girl were to take shelter for the night。 They would have eluded the bad sheik for a little while； and in the tomb the young man would show himself to be a gentleman by laying not so much as a finger upon the defenceless girl。
But this soon palled upon the watching connoisseur。 The actual shots were few and separated by barren intervals of waiting for that mysterious something which photoplays in production seemed to need。 Being no longer identified with this drama he had lost much of his concern over the fate in store for the girl； though he knew she would emerge from the ordeal as pure as she was beautifula bit foolish at moments； perhaps； but good。
He found that he was especially interested in bedroom scenes。 On Stage Four a sumptuous bedroom； vacant for the moment； enchained him for a long period of con